Valhalla
by Chocobo Goddess
Summary: *Note Rating Change* Sephiroth is the greatest fighter at Olympus Coliseum. Hercules, Cloud, and a healer from his own world teach him a little bit about human nature. Seph/OC, somewhat A/U. I answer anyone who leaves an email...*wark*
1. Injured

The pain shot up his wing and down into his back. Sephiroth almost stumbled—almost—as he felt blood run down his leg. Instead, he merely gritted his teeth and ran across to where his opponent stood, a shocked expression on the boy's face that he had actually gotten a hit in. Sora seemed to sense the burning anger that rose in the master swordsman, and he hauled his Keyblade up in desperation as Sephiroth brought Masamune down in one mighty stroke. 

As the boy lay unconscious on the ground, Sephiroth stood above him imperiously. Come back and try again when you have more experience, he growled. Then he stalked out of the arena, ignoring the people rushing past him to help the boy. He tossed his long, silvery hair over one shoulder and made his way to the gallery. 

After a quick look around to see that the other fighters had gone, he finally let himself give into the pain with a groan. He braced his hands on the rail and sank to his knees, breath coming in hard gasps. He prayed that no one would walk in and find him like this, weak and off-guard. 

His prayers went unanswered. The soft scuff of leather on marble announced the presence of another person coming toward his sanctuary. Forcing himself to straighten, he pretended to be looking out at the beautiful rolling hills that surrounded the Coliseum. Just as he composed himself, he heard the footsteps enter the room. 

_Good,_ he thought, _It's not Cloud._

Dear gods, Sephiroth, I can't believe you were going to let this be! A woman's voice exclaimed from behind him. Suddenly, a pair of firm hands had gripped his wing. Shocked at the contact, he whirled around, intent upon skewering this presumptuous creature for daring to touch him. Before he could draw his sword, however, the wing tore out of her grasp and he felt himself pale in agony. This time, he did stagger backward as half-dried blood cracked and feathers pulled themselves out of their quills. 

Dammit, woman, what are you trying to do? he cried, fighting a wave of nausea. 

I'm trying to heal you, you big oaf! That's why I'm here, remember? 

Sephiroth took a good look at his and realized that she was, indeed, the healer. She was a newcomer. Beyond recognizing her by sight, he knew little else about her, except that she came from his world. He noticed that she had adopted the draped clothing of this world. I will take care of it, he ground out, supporting himself on the stone rail. 

Like hell you will, she mumbled, pulling something from beneath the folds of her soft green chiton. A materia belt, Sephiroth realized, filled with mastered Cure materia. Now, turn around, shut up, and hold onto something. 

He was so surprised by her brusque manner that he did as she ordered, digging his fingers into the stone. Over his shoulder, he could see her closing her eyes as she rearranged the feathers. He winced a few times when she eased a pinion back into its socket, but otherwise remained silent. 

Keep still. She hadn't opened her eyes. Sephiroth would have been impressed at the power starting to flow through her, but he was too busy concentrating on anything but the pain. 

A familiar green glow appeared around her hands. The cure spell sent its healing tendrils coursing throughout the wing, up and down each tiny muscle and blood vessel. Like a stream of cool water, it trickled into his back, under his skin, spreading to cover his shoulder and across his chest. It made him shudder in relief, prickling his skin into goosebumps wherever it passed. 

Wh—why did you do that? he asked, panting. He slumped forward, knees weak. That had been some lucky shot for Sora; it had caught him just right to be the most painful injury. 

The healer was catching her breath, too. I'm a healer, remember? I'm supposed to fix you big tough fighters when you beat each other into bloody ruin. Sweat beaded her brow and ran down her face. Her chiton was dark with perspiration where it touched her skin. 

Sephiroth moved the wing experimentally. The feathers were clean now, and there was no pain beyond a bit of soreness. He folded it neatly behind him. Then thank you, Healer. Impressive work. He stood awkwardly for a moment, not sure of what else to say, then covered his consternation by striding from the room. 

The woman watched him go, pulling a square of fabric from her belt. She brought it to her mouth just in time to catch the flecks of blood that came up as she coughed. Fighting her own weakness, she waited until she was steady, then turned to go back to her own rooms. 

Something on the floor shone in the setting sun. The healer walked over to it and bent down. It was a single, curled black feather, glossy and iridescent. She picked it up and held it close to her face, studying it. Sighing, she put it carefully into one of her pockets, rose, and left. 


	2. Insolent

The sun beat down on the arena. Fighters who waited their turns lounged in the stands, soaking up the heat. They were a motley bunch: men, beast-men, birds, intelligent beasts. They wore chainmail, plate, or leather armor; bronze swords clinked against gunblades and lasers. Cloaks, trenchcoats, furs lay beneath some of them, SOLDIERs and SEEDs, knights and gladiators mingled in groups of two or three, sharing war stories. They talked lazily, half-watching the sparring going on beneath them. 

Sephiroth never joined these men. He waited to appear until someone was foolish enough to try their luck and fight him; he had beaten them all. This afforded him the deep respect of all the fighters, but also meant that they viewed him with awe. It is very difficult to be friends with someone who worships you. 

Not that he minded, he was used to being alone. 

He strolled through the cool, shadowy gallery, idly watching the two men in the arena. He always looked for those with unique traits, or those who had potential to become better than they were. The fact that the worlds overlapped made for some very interesting training possibilities. However, no one sparked his notice at the moment. 

Except, perhaps, for that boy. Sora. 

It had been several days since he'd last fought the boy. No more than a child, but he hadsomething. A determination, perhaps, or a strength of heartSephiroth shook his head, hair rippling. Perhaps he was trying to justify the boy's ability to wound him. It was probably no more than luck. 

"Something on your mind, Sephiroth?" a voice asked from behind him, humor evident in its tone. 

He turned to see the healer coming from the stillroom, a basket of herbs and fresh bandages under her arm. She smiled at him. 

He frowned. "It's none of your business, Healer," he said coldly. 

"Fine, forget I asked." She craned her neck a bit. "How is the wing doing?" 

"It is well." He tried to turn away, but she had reached out to touch it, expert fingers moving the feathers gently to check for swelling or remaining injury. Outraged, he nearly dragged it away, then remembered just in time how much that had hurt before. Clenching his teeth, he said, "Good gods, woman, can't you keep your hands to yourself?" 

"Oh, stop it. This is my job. You never came back afterward, so I haven't had time to see if the pinions set right." She grunted as one of them hit her in the nose. "And I have a name, you know." 

"Not that it matters. The wing is healed, you did your job. Now kindly unhand it, so I may continue on my way." 

"It does matter, you great lummox! Or would you rather get injured again, and let it heal crookedly? Or not at all?" She batted him on the shoulder. Sephiroth glared down at her, ready to retaliate, when Hercules came around the corner. 

"Oh, great, Ellie, listen, one of the guys got himself banged up pretty bad. Can you help?" He seemed to notice the tension between her and Sephiroth, and his voice faded on the last few words. 

The woman nodded, releasing Sephiroth's wing in disgust. "Sure, Herc. I'll be right there." She spun on her heel and marched away, toward the arena and out into the harsh sunlight. Both men stood staring after her. Hercules turned to Sephiroth. 

"You know, you could be a little nicer to her," the Olympian said. He was one of the few people who hadn't been beaten by Sephiroth. Their match had ended in a draw, with both battered and exhausted after hours of fighting. Since then, the two shared a relationship that was not quite friendship, but one of peer-to-peer. It allowed Hercules to say things like that to him without fear of finding himself impaled on Masamune's tip. 

Sephiroth snorted. "She presumed to tell me what to do. Imagine, ordering me around!" 

He was surprised to see Hercules' expression turn to anger. "I can't believe I just heard you say that. Do you have no idea what she did for you?" 

"Of course I do. She healed my wing." Something in the other man's tone made him look over at him. "That is what you're talking about, isn't it?" 

Hercules gaped in amazement. "You really don't know, do you?" At Sephiroth's confused frown, he sighed. "Okay, but you didn't hear this from me. Right?" 

"Whatever. Who am I going to tell?" 

"Good point. All right—Ellie is a healer, as you know. You may or may not know that she came from your world." 

The silver head nodded. "I remember her using materia. Only someone from my world could do that." 

"Exactly. So, usually, healing is really basic with that stuff. Except, when Ellie heals something that isn't part of the person's original form, like something that happened after they were born, or was changed on them, through magic or surgery or something, it's harder to do. Sometimes it's just a question of concentrating more. Sometimes, though, it's near-impossible." 

"I fail to see your point, Hercules." 

"I'm getting there, Seph, so hold on. Now, your wing appeared not only after your birth, but also after your death. It took very powerful magic to create it, and it requires more than just your basic Cure spell. Ellie isn't someone to back down from a challenge, either, so she wouldn't let you go around half-healed. She puts everything she has into her work, demanding nothing less than perfection." 

"So you're saying she worked extra-hard to heal me. I don't see how this means I should bow down to her in thanks." 

"Geez, Seph, you don't understand!" Hercules began pacing across the stone floor. He became agitated. "Whenever Ellie heals something that powerful, she has to give up something of herself. Seph, to fix your wing, she gave up some of her life." 

Sephiroth felt like he was rooted to the floor. "What?" 

"She gave up a portion of her life. The worse the injury, the more she gives up." Hercules crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "I'm surprised she was still standing afterward. Phil said she didn't even wake up until the following afternoon." 

As if on cue, Philoctetes, Hercules' personal trainer, clopped over. "Yo, Herc, you're up. Some schmuck from Agrabah wants ta try ta show Hercules what real fightin' is' or sumthin'. Ya wanna get out there an' put him down?" 

Hercules flashed his million-dollar grin. "On my way." As he left, he glanced at Sephiroth, who seemed to be stunned for once. "Just think about what I said, okay?" 

Phil peered up at Sephiroth. "Huh, he told ya about Ellie?" 

"You knew this, too?" he asked. "About what she does? And you still let her work?" 

The round little satyr sighed and wiped his forehead. "Like I could stop her." 

Sephiroth frowned again. "What if she hurts herself? Or goes too far?" 

"That's her own prerogative. I got better things ta worry about." He began trotting down the hall. Sephiroth walked beside him, his long legs taking one stride to every five or six of Phil's squat ones. "Take this kid Sora. He's got somethin' in him, like my boy Herc. I think he's got what it takes ta go the distance, y'know?" He scratched one fuzzy, pointed ear. "Ah, fahgeddaboudit. I'm just an old goat, relivin' the glory days." 

Sephiroth "hmph"-ed, but said nothing else. He wasn't really listening to Phil; his mind was focused on what he'd learned about Ellie. Abruptly, he stopped walking. "Excuse me, Philoctetes," he said absently, pivoting and striding back down toward the arena. 

Phil chuckled. "Mister High-an'-Mighty' got somethin' ta think about, huh?" Still chuckling, he clopped on down the hall. 


	3. Interested

Sephiroth found Ellie sitting in the stands, her basket of healing items stowed safely beneath her seat. She was watching the current opponents in the ring with interest, cheering both of them on. She had donned a wide, floppy straw hat that shielded her face from the sun. When he approached, she didn't seem to notice him. 

"Ahem," he began, expecting her to pay attention to him. That was what people did around the Great General Sephiroth, hang upon every word he said. 

She ignored him, calling, "Yeah, get him, Herc! Oh, no, Sareeb, don't let him hit you!" She clapped a hand to her forehead when the man from Agrabah went down. "Ugh, you were supposed to dodge that, baka!" 

Sephiroth tried again, thinking, _She must not have heard me._ "Excuse me" 

"I will not." She still hadn't looked at him. She sat down and fixed her hat. 

"Pardon?" 

"I said, I will not excuse you.' You were rude and overbearing to me after I helped you. So I have decided that you're not worth my time." She watched Sareeb stand weakly and clasp Hercules' arm. The Agraban had been a good opponent, but was completely outclassed. He looked sheepish as he limped off the field. 

Sephiroth was speechless. He had never, never, _ever_ been brushed off like that. When he had been ShinRa's Elite General, people had nearly worshipped him, falling all over each other to ingratiate themselves to him. When he had been a monstrous killing machine searching for godhood, people had feared him to the point of uselessness. 

But no one had _ever_ spoken to him like that. 

He began to feel the familiar burn of Mako searing through his blood. How _dare_ she? Speak like that, to _him_!? However, just before he could summon up the most powerful fire spell he could think of, she spoke again. 

"Things are different here, Sephiroth. No one has a past; no one cares who you were. Only who you are now. Even if those SOLDIERs down there remember you from their days with ShinRa, they don't fear you anymore. Every one of us has a past, some of them are bad, some are good. But they don't matter here." 

The burning began to die away in the face of his confusion. 

Ellie continued. "All of us here were given a clean slate, a new start. We're not really any different, but it's like, the moment we appeared, our respective gods gave us the ability to become what we wanted to be." She finally looked over at him, and he noticed that her eyes were blue. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. 

"But—they treat me no differently now than they did when I lived before," he protested, feeling like he should defend his actions. "I am still feared." 

She shook her head, causing the hat to flop around. "No, Sephiroth, you're not." She swept her hand out to indicate the assorted fighters. "They revere you, because you're the strongest, and the most skilled. Haven't you noticed, no one cringes when your name is mentioned? The way they did back home?" 

"They do not treat me as a friend." 

Ellie laughed darkly. "That's because you hide in the gallery, and don't come talk to them. Haven't you noticed how Herc is always trying to get you to open up?" 

"I am Sephiroth," he snorted, "I do not open up' to anyone." He crossed his arms and glared down at her. He glared even more fiercely when she laughed again, brightly this time. 

"Oh, Seph, that's so funny!" She wiped away tears. "If only you could see your face." 

His eyes flared, then, when that failed to impress her, he gave up, putting his fists on his hips and looming over her. She continued to laugh at him. Suddenly, he felt an unfamiliar tugging at the corner of his lips. Not a smirk, which he had perfected to an art, but a true smile, with his own unused laughter bubbling up behind it. 

The Great General Sephiroth threw back his head and let it happen. Everyone knows that laughter, once started, is nearly impossible to stop. It is infectious, causing all those within earshot to look and smile, and maybe join in. Some of the SOLDIERs nearby turned in surprise. None of them had ever heard of Sephiroth smiling, much less laughing. They watched in awe and wonder as their former commander held his sides and sat down, gasping for breath. 

Ellie waited for him to calm himself. "So I suppose anything is possible, now," she grinned, "I mean, wasn't it commonly said that something was unlikely if it would happen when Sephiroth smiled?" 

He nodded. "They used to think I didn't know what they said about me behind my back. I don't think I've ever been insulted to my face; you've done it twice, now." He tsk-ed. "I have no idea what that means." 

"It means that I'm not afraid of you. Big, beautiful, black wing or no, I have no plans to run screaming from your presence or fainting in your shadow." She drew her knees up to her chest and cocked her head at him. 

He stretched the wing out and looked closely at it. "Beautiful? I hadn't thought of it that way." 

She brushed her fingers against one of the pinions. Sephiroth had to suppress an unexpected pleasant shiver when she did. He had never noticed how sensitive the feathers were. 

It seemed he hadn't noticed much of anything lately. 

Ellie was still admiring his wing. "It really is lovely," she said. "The way the black is iridescent, like the insides of mussel shells." 

"Mussel shells?" Sephiroth raised an eyebrow. "So now it reminds you of shellfish?" 

She giggled, a light and airy sound. "I guess it does sound funny. But have you ever looked at a mussel shell? It's black like this, but when you turn it just so', it reveals rainbows of color inside. And it's smooth, hard like glass, but if you touch it, it feels like it should be soft. Like your feathers." 

"You grew up near Junon, didn't you?" 

She smiled proudly. "I should have known you'd recognize the accent." 

"That and the rhapsody about mussels, yes." 

"Hey, I'm proud to come from a long line of fishermen. They don't get enough credit." She poked him in the shoulder. Sephiroth decided that he had been forgiven somewhere along the way. 

"I _eat_ fish, Ellie, and I leave catching them to the experts." He settled the wing behind him, smiling faintly. Whe was the last time he'd been in such a good mood? Had he ever been? 

Ellie feigned shock. "Oh, my, there's something that the Great Sephiroth doesn't do?" She placed a hand over her heart. "And mussels aren't fish." 

Another two fighters had faced off in the arena, this time a burly red-haired man in a kilt and furs and a thin man dressed in an elaborate, skin-tight black costume. He seemed to draw shadows around him from thin air, even in the unabashedly bright sun. Ellie pointed him out to Sephiroth. 

"He calls himself Shadow'," she said confidentially, "He's a ninja. That's all anyone knows about him. He picks his opponents well. Uses his speed and dexterity to their utmost, knows he looks best fighting large, slow people. He prefers to have the element of surprise, but you can't really do that in this environment." She picked up her basket and stood. 

"Leaving?" asked Sephiroth. He prepared to stand, as well. 

"No," she replied, "I'm going to be needed when this is over. Shadow may have underestimated Angus; it could go either way. One or both of them will need my help. Stay here, watch the fight." She tossed a crooked smile over her shoulder and began to make her way down the stands to the arena floor. 

Sure enough, the fight was not as one-sided as the ninja probably had hoped. Angus leapt about and dodged attacks with the grace of a dancer. Sephiroth watched idly for a few moments, then let his gaze wander back to Ellie. She had reached the bottom of the amphitheatre and started getting things out of her basket. The ridiculous hat blew off suddenly, flying upward. 

Without thinking, he launched himself down the slope of stone benches, using the wing to not-quite-fly, and caught the wayward object. He angled the wing to slow his descent, landing perfectly at the ground level. Pretending not to hear the oohs and ahhs that followed him, he strode over to Ellie. 

She was already using a cure spell on Shadow, who had taken a nasty bump on the head. Angus raised a bushy red brow at Sephiroth's approach. He himself was waiting for her to treat a gash from one of Shadow's knives. 

"Weel, if it ain't Sephiroth! Din't think y'ever came out into the sunlight!" The man grinned, showing bright white teeth under his mustache. 

Sephiroth inclined his head slightly. "As you can see, however, that is not the case. I do, in fact, enjoy it." He turned to Ellie. "I found your hat." 

She beamed at him. "Thank you! Though you didn't need to go to such lengths." She took it from him, pleased. Looking down at Shadow, she tsk-ed. "Think you can manage now?" 

He said nothing, but nodded sheepishly. 

"Good. Now hop up, you got Angus but good." She made a shooing motion with her hands. As Angus got himself situated, Ellie looked at Sephiroth. "Umm, I'm going to be busy here for a while. You seemed to want to talk about something." 

"I did." He tried to ignore Angus's speculative grin behind Ellie's back. "It is not important." 

"Well, when I'm done I'll find you, okay? There are a few more fights, and then I'll probably be ready for dinner." 

Angus waggled his eyebrows at Sephiroth, who tried harder to pretend the man wasn't there. "Very well, I will see you then." He stifled a smirk when Ellie turned back to Angus without warning and the man had to compose himself unexpectedly. He flexed his wing and left, but not before he heard Ellie scold Angus for being careless. 

_Yes_, he thought, _being in a good mood is definitely an improvement._


	4. Indebted

Moonlight flickered along Masamune as the blade sliced its path through the air. The deceptively gentle curve with its razor edge wove invisible designs throughout ancient katas, then snapped left, right, left, right, left, down.

Sephiroth had needed to think, and so think he did, his silver brows coming together in consternation at the many unexpected things he'd learned that day. Why would someone give up pieces of her life to save another? Wasn't it a precious thing to be cherished, held closely, guarded jealously? And of all the people to give that life to, why him?

'No one cares who you were,' Ellie had said, 'they only care who you are.'

But who was he?

The kata faltered, and a pair of blue eyes gleamed in the darkness of the gallery beyond. Sephiroth drew the blade upward, then into a ready position beside him. "Who is there?" he addressed the figure, seemingly wrapped in its own burdens. He was not afraid, even with his coat lying on the bottom row of the stands, off to the side. He had stood without armor before against unimaginable foes; this would be no problem should the visitor prove to be a threat.

"You know me." Cloud Strife melted into the arena, his bright eyes lighting his face long before the rest of him came into view. His dark, leathery wing was folded neatly behind him; the Ultima weapon also waited patiently, sheathed on his back in its fluttering wrappings. He leaned against one of the tall columns that supported the roof of the gallery.

Since his arrival, he had not spoken with Sephiroth. People seemed to avoid Cloud as much as they did his onetime teacher, even though Cloud had a habit of never really going all out when he sparred. Perhaps that was what made them fear him so; he was so powerful that he didn't need to concentrate on his opponents. Always, the eerie blue eyes with their Mako glow—even here, they did not fade—seemed distracted, as if he was searching for something he did not think he would ever find. Those eyes now swept over the tall General, reading him.

"Strife," Sephiroth said quietly, weighing the word, "Such an appropriate name for what your life became." _For what I made of your life,_ he thought.

Cloud shrugged. "Why do you feel the need to elevate yourself?" He asked in a bored tone. "Haven't you noticed that our world is gone?" _And she is gone, too._

Sephiroth did not move, but there was a subtle shift of weight that he knew the other fighter would recognize. "I do not elevate myself, Strife." His eyes narrowed as he laughed harshly, not at Cloud, but at himself. "And I was gone long before our world disappeared. You know that, you sent me on my way." He motioned to the pale scar along his breastbone, one that was sadly similar to the ones he'd left on Cloud, and many of Cloud's friends.

"Whatever you say." The blond pushed himself off from the pillar and walked, unafraid, to stand in front of his former enemy. "But then why the distance? Why not take this as a chance at a new, sane life?" Cloud didn't seem to feel the need to bring up the past; now that the world had disappeared with countless others, what had happened years ago no longer mattered. Saving the Planet had been for naught, if the Planet no longer existed. Nothing was going to give him the chance to see _her _again. He had even sold his soul to try; as it was, he had barely gotten out of the contract by default.

Sephiroth stared at him. "You've changed," he said quietly. When the other man did not respond, he sighed and sheathed Masamune in the formal manner, guiding it without looking, in the way of one who has done this a thousand times or more. "You are the second person today to ask me that. Strange that I never thought of this as a second chance for...anything."

Cloud looked away. "Funny how your head clears when you don't hear voices, isn't it?" His words were not said in taunting, it was merely like he understood. _And then you have regrets that insanity never makes you see._

"Indeed." He walked a few steps closer to the man he had once used as a puppet, the man who had been the one to stop him when no one else would or could. "Why are you here?" He gestured to the arena about them. "Why do you remain? This is not your desire. You had had enough of fighting, I thought." He asked questions of Strife to push away the questions he had for himself.

Cloud smiled as if he knew. "I was looking for someone. And now, I guess I've given up. I would rather play around with would-be heroes than fight with myself." Cloud shook his head and fixed his unreal eyes back on Sephiroth. "And if you want to know why I am talking to you, I have my reasons."

Sephiroth allowed a tiny smile to twitch his lips upward. "Would-be heroes? Like that boy, Sora?" He flexed his wing experimentally. "That one bears watching." His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "And you, will you fight this would-be...whatever I am?"

"Sora has promise. Much more then I ever had as a hero." A yellow brow raised as his own hand went behind his head to the hilt of the Ultima weapon. "If you want a fight, I'll never disappoint, Sephiroth. But you aren't getting out of this conversation with swordplay.

"Huh. And what conversation am I supposedly getting out of?" Masamune was once more in its owner's hand, drinking in the moonlight as before. He shook out his neck and shoulders, bare muscles rippling.

Cloud smiled as he pulled his blade out. "Who are you, Sephiroth? That would be the conversation." The Ultima weapon and the Masamune were fairly evenly matched blades, the same weight but entirely different balances. Cloud locked eyes with Sephiroth and waited for the attack.

The green eyes flared in surprise. "And what are you doing inside my thoughts? Or are my thoughts now so obvious?" He asked with wry humor. He raised the thin blade in salute, then lunged. _"En garde."_

Cloud met him, powerfully swinging the blade out of the way. "They are only obvious to someone who has felt the same way, asked the same things." He hopped to the side avoiding the blade again. "Nice," he commented.

"Thank you," Sephiroth smirked, wheeling Masamune around and reversing his swing. "And what should I—" he paused to spin on the balls of his feet to meet the Ultima weapon before it could catch his hair, "—do to discover who I am?"

"Start by not being an ass to—" Cloud rolled into Sephiroth, drilling the blade straight. Over his shoulder he finished his sentence, "—certain healers."

Over his own shoulder, Sephiroth grunted, "Not you, too." He pushed at the smaller, but more compact, man, putting some distance back between them. Arching out of the way of the wide blade of Ultima, he brought Masamune around in an arc to keep Cloud from reversing and bringing the blade back at him. "You and Hercules sound like a Greek chorus, repeating each other." He stepped back, waiting for Cloud's charge, panting slightly. At last, a real workout! "Although, I must admit..." he let the words trail off.

"You shouldn't let the chance slip by." Cloud backed away as the two men circled each other, catching their breath. It had been a LONG time since he'd had a real fight. He had floored poor Sora last time, however unintentionally. A new strategy was called forHe grinned and charged right as he struck left, switching the blade to his clawed hand and wielding it with one arm.

"A chance for what?" The General fell for the feint but recovered in time...barely. His sword locked with Cloud's, in a ridiculous but deadly clash of steel. "I should know better," he huffed, "I taught you that move. Damn."

"You taught me a lot of things." Cloud smirked at the dark irony of the situation. The blade switched hands again. Then, as if they hadn't been interrupted, he continued, "A chance to say something, to feel something." He never broke eye contact with his old teacher. He had been the one student that hadn't wanted to be in ShinRa. Cloud had been just a runaway boy, one who had been turned into what he was at someone else's will. _Maybe we are more alike then we want to admit._

They sprang apart, the blades nearly touching across the expanse of the arena. This was, indeed, the most perfect place to fight, out in the open, in a place designed for just this kind of combat. But here, there were no other eyes to see, no cheers from the stands to distract them, just Sephiroth and Cloud, as different as the moon from the sun. Yet they were utterly alike, and the realization hit the silver-haired man with the suddenness of certainty. "I...what am I supposed to feel? I do not deserve the chance you seem to think is owed to me somehow. What do I say to her? What do I do?" It irked him to be on this side of the conversation, the one with all the questions and none of the answers.

"You are human. You have emotions, that you deserve as much as the rest of us." Cloud lunged, this stalemate possibly the most fun he'd had since he got here. "You could start—" They clashed blades with a spark, "—By saying—" Again their blades crossed each other, "—You're sorry."

Sephiroth felt the clash up and down his arms, but held firm. It had been so long since he'd enjoyed a fight, and Cloud had learned much since their last battle. But at the mention of apologizing, he nearly dropped his sword. "You actually think she'd listen to me?"

Cloud politely waited for the other man to recover. He stretched out his own wing with a snap. "Why care about that? At least you get a chance to say it."

He paused at that and peered at the younger man. "You sound as if you speak from experience."

"I do," Cloud responded sadly.

"Huh," Sephiroth said again, then, "This is the last pass. If there's no victor, then we declare it a draw. Right?"

Cloud nodded, and lunged. The night sky lit up with the sparks from a fight that neither man really wanted to win. They were fighting for the art of it, for the dance. "Talk to her. What happens if tomorrow the world is different and you never get the chance?"

Sephiroth grinned, meeting each stroke of Ultima with one of his own, a flurry of movement in wicked snow and silver and flesh. "Then I will take your advice, my student, who would be my teacher. And I will apologize." 

They stood apart, the fight ended. Cloud rubbed his face and flicked the sweat off with his human hand. He nodded once, then turned to go.

"Strife..."

"Yes?" He looked back over his shoulder.

Sephiroth ran a hand through sweat-soaked hair. "My thanks."

Cloud smiled softly. "You're welcome." _I hate to see anyone make the same mistakes I did. Even you. _As he sheathed his blade, he looked up at the sky. Sephiroth was already gone in the direction of the dining hall, to deal with his problem, leaving the former hero alone. As the stars, fewer in number than they had once been, shone above him, the man who was now part demon spoke. "Wherever you are, I am so sorryTifa."

*****

I have been terribly remiss in posting this chapter originally without at least MENTIONING that I have Drakonlily to thank. She was a fantastic Cloud, and really helped me get this part off the ground. THANK YOU my friend. And to you all, PLEASE go read "I Tried" and "Completion" by her, and make sure you leave a review. You can find them under the Final Fantasy VII heading.

*wark*


	5. Intertwined

Though the large hall was filled with hungry fighters, drinking and talking and laughing, Ellie sat alone at her table. She picked at her food and waited for Sephiroth to join her.

_Of course he's not coming. You knew it. He's a jerk, but he DID apologize for being mean. Herc says to give him timeHuh, time. The one thing I have in plenty._

A hush fell over the room as Sephiroth strode in, lost in thought. He barely looked up as he moved, almost instinctively walking around tables and avoiding the other fighters as they ate. Many were surprised to see him here. Sephiroth normally took his meals alone, in his room. Or perhaps he never ate; there were those who believed he simply did not need food.

She looked up at him. _So, the Great Sephiroth just saunters in whenever he feels like it._

He made his way over to her and took a seat, still saying nothing. He was preoccupied. Cloud had given him quite a bit to think about. He stared down at the empty plate before him.

"So you actually decided to come?" she asked peevishly. _Should I be flattered that he deigned to grace me with his presence?_

"Mm?" He glanced up at her, brows knit. "Oh, yes. Sorry I'm late." Silence again.

_Sorry? Well, that's a new one._ "You look like you worked out."

"Yes." He seemed ill at ease. The room noise regained its former level of raucous laughter and male voices comparing battle stories.

"With any one?" _Oh, quit fishing for him to say something. You are sounding stupid._ She began to drum the table with her free hand.

"I...had a match. With Cloud Strife." He looked up at her again. "I knew him once."

"You two talked?" She arched her eyebrow. Cloud Strife never spoke, never paid anyone any attention. He was aptly named, for his head always seemed to be lost in the clouds. But he still fought when asked, and he would win. She'd patched up plenty of overconfident warriors after they'd gone a few rounds with him. "Does he even speak?"

"Yes," he replied, but did not elaborate.

"Oh." The awkward silence descended again. 

Ellie was trying to think of something else to say when a young man ran up to them. Paying her companion no heed, he said breathlessly, "Miss Healer? Could you come take a look at my friend? He almost choked on his food. He says he's okay, but"

"No, it's all right. He's the one at the bar? Excuse me," She said, glancing at Sephiroth. "Not that you'll notice I've gone," she muttered under her breath as she walked away.

He nodded absently, still deep in thought. If he had been standing beside himself, he'd realize she was completely correct. It barely registered that she'd left the table.

_Why would Strife care about second chances? Why would he want me to even think about it? I ruined his life. I nearly destroyed the Planet. Not that it mattersthe Planet died anyway. All my work to conquer it, all the work of those who stopped me, was for naught._

It made sense, then, all at once.

_That's what he means. There is no past, there is nothing but our own memories. This place is all that exists for us now. Valhalla,_ he thought, lips twisting into a rueful smirk, _Where the heroes battle day after day until the end of the world. We are all...dead, in some way, here._ He looked down at his long-fingered hands, still clad in black leather gloves. _Some of us died in truth, like me. _He drew his gaze around the room. _Some of us merely died in our minds...like Shadow, or Strife, when our worlds died._

His eyes met Angus's mischievous visage, and he groaned inwardly when the burly redhead weaved his way over to sit down by him. _Gods and Planet both. Anyone but him._

"What arrrrre ye doin' here, Sheph? Trying to get a bit of a lay in wit' the healer?" Angus guffawed with a complete lack of tact. His words slurred a bit. One could wonder how much, exactly, he'd had to drink.

Sephiroth tried to ignore the man. But how did one ignore a six-foot-tall, three-foot-across Scotsman with fire-red hair and a booming, ale-strengthened voice? "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ye know, have some fun wit' the lass?" Angus winked, grinning sloppily. "Or—if ye don't eat, do ye not fuck either?"

Sephiroth's face was a mask of marble. "That is none of your business." He would not kill the man. He would not. 

"Ah-ahh, thats what they all say when they's getting lucky! I mean really, ye had me worried. I was sure ye werna human fer a while!"

Green eyes snapped with cold fire. "I am not human. Thank you for reminding me." The only other outward sign of his anger was the absolute stillness of his body. But if he fought with this man, here, then Ellie would have to deal with the outcome. She would give herself over for the life of this odious man, because Sephiroth WOULD bring him close to death. No one had yet died, here. Would Angus be the first?

"Whooo, boy, no need ta get upset, jes' a friendly lil' chat. Ye're shure ta get in good wit' her!" Angus roared with laughter, slapping the table. "She's so stern in th' day, she MUS' be a wildcat."

"Must I, now?" Ellie's furious voice came from behind them both.

_Oh, Hel._

"Ellie, I—"

"FORGET it." 

"But—"

"I KNEW you were a jerk, Sephiroth, but I had no idea you would be THIS low!" She threw some munny on the table and glared at him before turning away.

"Wait—" He had no idea how to deal with something like this.

She whirled on him, poking a finger into his chest. "Gods, what do you think? That the whole damned universe owes you something?"

"No, I—"

"Well you sure as Hel act like it."

He'd never had to explain himself before, and he wasn't going to get a chance to now, it seemed. "If you just—"

"I was stupid to even try to talk to a pompous ass like you!" She stormed away, bumping roughly into Hercules. She hurried onward, mumbling a hasty, "S-sorry Herc," as she went.

The hero watched her leave, confusion writ across his pleasant face. Ellie, of all people, was crying? His eyes lit upon Sephiroth, who looked as if he'd swallowed a nail, and suddenly the reason for her tears became clear.

Sephiroth's face burned, his fists clenched as he watched her go. Movement from Angus behind him brought him back to himself, and his anger found its target. He stood so fast that his chair clattered backward. One hand shot out and caught the Scotsman by the throat.

The room fell silent again

Angus was too inebriated to react. Clutching at the hand that was squeezing the air from his throat, he choked, "Wha'sproblem?"

"SEPH!" Hercules rushed up to the men, trying to come between them. "Put him down, he's just drunk!"

"It doesn't excuse his behavior." The silver-haired man spoke evenly. Angus's face was slowly turning purple.

Hercules stepped in closer, forcing Sephiroth to look at him. "And it won't excuse yours. Let him go. You can fight with him another time."

Sephiroth glared at him, but released Angus abruptly. As the Scotsman fell gasping to the table, he spat, "When you're sober, I will challenge YOU." A low murmur ran through the room. Sephiroth had NEVER challenged anyone.

Angus coughed loudly, looking more than a little green.

Disgusted, Hercules pointed at him. To Angus's friends, he ordered, "Get him out of here. NOW." They rushed to obey him; no one wanted to face both Sephiroth AND Hercules. The other fighters were silent and still, hoping to remain unnoticed. Hercules wasn't fooled. "And all the rest of you, get out of here or get back to your business. Go!"

The fifty or so fighters present, all battle-scarred veterans and the best from their respective worlds, suddenly had somewhere else to be. Hercules RARELY got angry, but when he did...well, no one wanted to be in his way. Once the room had emptied, servants included, Hercules turned back to the still-fuming Sephiroth. "What the heck happened? Fighting with the others, that's not like you."

He received a groan in reply as the former General slumped into a chair. Hercules grew concerned.

"Seph? Hey, are you wounded?" He sat on the edge of the table, peering down at the other man.

"No, why?" _I blew it. Completely, utterly blew it. I knew I would. I should just stick to solitude; at least it's familiar._

"I saw you and Cloud in the arena. That was" he searched for a word to describe it, "That was the most awesome thing I have ever seen! _Our _fight wasn't even that spectacular. The two of you were really going at it. And then you were talking to Ellie"

"Don't remind me." Sephiroth scowled.

"So I thought Cloud" Realization dawned. "Zeus, you weren't hurt at all! You were honestly trying to talk to the woman, weren't you?"

_Ellie. How did I even think I'd have any kind of chance? _"Yes, Hercules. I was TRYING to talk to her. It was a stupid mistake, one that I'm certain to never make again." His voice was low and bitter.

"Whoa now, wait up. Why do you say that? She's mad, sure, but women get that way. Just go and tell her you're sorry."

Sephiroth looked up wearily. "She thinks I was bragging about getting her into bed. That's why I wanted to kill Angus. After that, you think she'd listen to me now?"

"Well, you weren't bragging, now, were you?"

"Of course not!" He stood and began to pace. "Hel, even when I was an enlisted man, I never said things like that."

Hercules almost laughed, his smile returning. "Then go tell her so. I mean, seriously, she'll be able to tell whether you are lying or not."

"Are you and Strife in on some joke or something?" Sephiroth asked, agitated. "Both of you keep telling me to go talk to her. Well, I did, and all I've accomplished so far is to make her hate me. She doesn't want to talk to me."

"Strife talks?" Herc shook his head abruptly. "That's not important. Ellie doesn't hate you. Otherwise, why would she cry if what you thought didn't matter to her?"

"Yes, we talked. He was once my student." Sephiroth stopped pacing. _Ellie was crying?_ "She was crying?"

"Yes."

"Dammit."

Herc's smile faltered. He had a soft spot for crying women. "So go talk to her! You can take on Cloud Strife like that, but you can't tell a woman you're sorry? Come ON, Seph."

"But I didn't do anything to be sorry about! And I'm still getting blamed for it!" Dealing with human emotions was frustrating! "Why can't everyone just behave in a rational manner? It would make so many things easier."

"And boring." Herc propped his chin on his hand.

"What?"

"If you could predict the world, then what would the point of it be?" His blue eyes were calm, but serious. "I mean, really. If we knew everything already, then what the heck is the point?" He sighed. "If you care about her crying they maybe you should fix it. Even the healers need healing."

Sephiroth snorted. "This is ridiculous. I was almost a god."

"Yeah, so what? So was I." Herc gave one of his patented Hero Grins' and stood.

Sephiroth shook his head. "I should not have to worry about such petty things." But Ellie's words came back to him, even as he said that. _It doesn't matter who you were, just who you are now..._ He sighed. "Fine. I will go and try to talk to her, but she won't want to hear it."

"You'd be surprised." Herc made as if to go, then turned around. "Seph?"

"Yes?"

"You ARE upset that she's crying?" There was an unusual slant to the question, as if he wondered whether he was imagining things.

Defeated, Sephiroth sighed and buried his face in his hands, admitting, "Yes."

Herc put his hand on the other man's shoulder and bent down. "You know," he whispered in the silver-haired man's ear, "Regret is something that only a human can feel." With that, he gave Sephiroth's one last pat and walked out the door. 

Sephiroth stared after his...friend, he realized with a start.

Then he, too, stood and left the empty room to search for Ellie.

*****

The healer ran past the awards and medals in the gallery, not really seeing them. She didn't bother to stop her tears. She was past the point of caring who saw her. What did anything matter anymore? Life was empty. She could be as busy as she wanted to be, heal as many people as she could, but she was still left with nothing at the end of the day. _Except, _she thought miserably, _the pain that healing brings to me._ Sephiroth had twisted the blade she had put in her own heart just as she thought to remove it. _He was just trying to sleep with me. Gods, even here, are all men alike?_

She had thought that this place, this man was different—that maybe she could have something here other than her own pain. She just wanted something, anything, to hold on to and call her own. She had thought that the silver-haired swordsman would understand, he who had been through so much and had pain of his own. Perhaps they could have found something in common. He was from her world; he would have made a good friend.

Not that the idea of sleeping with him hadn't crossed her mind. She remembered the newscasts, back when he had been Shinra's famous General. She would be lying to say she hadn't thought about it. But to hear him bragging to Angusas if she didn't matter! Was he truly only thinking about her as long as she held promise for a night? Was Sephiroth only a man, like the one she had thought loved her once? Was he no different than that one man who had told her he'd call, had sworn to help her, and never had? The one who had left her with nothing but weak assurances?

Ellie sagged against the wall and put a hand over her stomach, remembering. All those soft words in the night Marc had spokenthey had been just words. She had called him weeks later, when she had found out. The SOLDIER had told her he would return, that he would take care of her. But the promises had been just idle words; no actions, no reality.

She wondered if, instead of Valhalla, she truly was in Hel.

And Sephiroth himself, like this whole existencewas he also a dream? Was he just like that man who had stranded her, all words and dreamland, with nothing to hold on to? With nothing real? At least that one-night stand had left her with a reason to live. Her son.

But even Bryn had been taken from her. 

_No, _she reminded herself harshly, _He wasn't taken. I let him go. I could have saved him. I let him go_

He'd have been Sora's age now, fifteen or so. Ellie remembered his breathing, his fever, the way his eyes begged her to help him. She had been his mother! It had been her place to protect him, to love him, to keep him safe with her very life. She had been the best healer for miles, but she had been afraid to use her whole power, knowing it would kill her. What if she'd gone all the way, given over her life for that of her son? Wasn't that the sort of thing a mother was supposed to do without hesitation? She could almost hear his questioning voice in her head even now, his last breath, as she heard it every night she didn't go to sleep in utter exhaustion: _'Momma'_

What did that say about her, then?

He had been dead for a year when the Planet was destroyed. Poor Planet; it had had only a few years of peace after Shinra, after the Lifestream repelled that meteor over Midgar. And then, nothing. The blank emptiness of her life consumed her. She had let go of the one thing that needed her to fight for it. All she could be afterward was an empty husk, with no life, no purpose. Then she had found herself in Valhalla.

Hercules and Phil had been wonderful. They gathered all the survivors of the Planet together. Somehow, all the fighters had come to Olympus. It drew them like a magnet for other people who were like her, husks of the living. They were all people without ambition, fighting each other endlessly.

Ellie hadn't understood them, not for the longest time, until it hit her one day. They fought because it made them feel alive. She couldn't feel alive, she didn't deserve to. But then the reason for her to be here, too, became clear. There came a day when a SOLDIER recognized her and asked her to look at his broken arm.

That began her new work. She healed everyone, using every scrap of knowledge she possessed to mend scrapes and bruises, set bones, stitch gashes closed. Somehow, her collection of herbs increased. People found seeds, or brought plants from other worlds that could still be accessed. Cid, a pilot from Rocket Town, had a shop in Traverse Town now. He made sure to send her whatever he came across, books and plants and medicinal supplies.

She gave everything of herself because she had no meaning any longer. She worked, she moved, she bore the pain because it took her energy. It let her sleep at night without hearing the pleading voice of her son. Yes, Ellie had been busy forhow long? Time really had no meaning here. She woke up in the morning, worked throughout the day, went to bed at night, and did it all again the next day. How many days had she spent like this? How many nights? All she cared about was that exhausted minds could not dream.

What a busy—yet empty—existence.

_Is this Valhalla, _she thought, _Or is this my Hel? Why else would I fall into the same kind of man? Why would I even think there could be anything for me?_ The answer was simple. She only wanted to have something, to have anything. She had worked hard here for a long time; what did she have to show for it? After all her years of loneliness and pain, she still had nothing to hold onto. Her punishment was to remain here, alive when everything else she knew was gone, saving these warriors from themselves. Ellie wondered how many of them thought about anything beyond the next match, when she held on to their lives while giving her own. Would she let them die, too?

Even with all this pain in her life, she was still alive. Wasn't she?

Ellie had been afraid to go to the brink of death to save her own sonbut even if she had, where would he be now? Here? Dead?

Heartless?

Perhaps he'd be stranded on some other world, with nothing. It was the worst feeling to have nothing. Everyone else here felt that way on some level. She could see it in their eyes. All that they had known had been taken from them. But they were so sure they could start anew. What, though, would happen if it was all taken away again? She wiped her eyes and looked down on the coliseum. The massive bricks felt so sure and solid right now, but would they be there tomorrow?

"I hate having nothing..." she said to the empty night.

The dark sound of leather flapping in a sudden breeze, the whisper of feathers upon feathers came up behind her. Before he even spoke she knew who it was. Was he here to laugh at her? To hurt her? Was that what he had found to live for, tormenting her? "Ellie," Sephiroth's voice spoke softly, "Do you truly have nothing?"

She hoped there was enough anger mixed with her pain when she spoke. "What do you care?" She wouldn't let him see her cry. He was just like Marc, she reminded herself. But there was something about his voice. Though it had the same softness Marc's had possessed, there was something else within its ebony depth.

Sincerity.

He sighed heavily and leaned against a marble pillar. "I know what it's like, that is all." He remained in shadow, a starless silhouette against the night sky, though his eyes glowed like neon. "I merely came to tell you that I wanted to kill Angus for what he said. It was untrue."

He had come up here? To apologize? She fought the urge to turn around by straightening her back.

"I had no designs on you." He frowned at her silence. She could tell, somehow. "Angus should have his mouth sewn shut."

Abruptly, she laughed, the image was so absurd. "Was that a joke? From you?" She wiped her eyes and turned around. It occurred to her that she might have been mistaken. Sephiroth had been avoiding Angus since they metthey hadn't said more than two words to each other. Could she trust him? Heavens, if they still were there to hope to, she wanted to.

His head cocked to the side, a purely innocent gesture. "If it made you laugh, then yes, I suppose it was. Though I half-mean it." He walked at last into the now dim starlight. It was sincerity, as deep as his voice. He couldn't hide it, nor was he trying to. "You were crying, weren't you?"

His excuse made sense. In all honesty, she couldn't think of him joking with Angus. And yet, he was still a man. 

"What's it mean to you?" She didn't want to say it, but she did. What must she must look like, with her eyes red and puffy? Would he think all those tears were caused by her misunderstanding? With a wordless stutter she turned away, hugging herself. Now that she wasn't feeling so lost, she realized how cold the night had grown.

"I did not mean for you to. I am...sorry." Sephiroth waited for her to say something. He didn't know what to do. Neither of them moved, though he wanted to go closer to her as much as she needed him to. "Ellie?" he said at last.

She hugged herself closer. "Apology accepted."

Some of the tension left him, but his wing shifted itself as if it couldn't get comfortable. _Now what? Strife and Hercules said nothing about what happens after an apology. They both just said to do it. _He cleared his throat. "The, ah, night is cool, is it not?" He, the man who could have been a god, was nervous? What was there to be afraid of? Being alone?

"Yes, it is." Her voice was subdued. "Strange, because it's so warm during the day. The nights here are much colder than they were in Junon."

"Are they?" She could hear him behind her, turning his head to look out over the peaceful hills. "I do not remember Junon sometimes. So many places on the Planet are like a dream to me." It seemed like he was about to say something else, but again he fell silent. Sephiroth found himself giving in to some invisible force that begged his body to shelter hers from the wind.

"Does it even bear to remember if it is all gone?" She leaned back, almost wishing he would hold her but not wanting to ask. She could hear him moving.

He sighed softly. "I don't know." His boots clicked on the slate of the floor as he stepped closer. "Ellie," he murmured, "Are you cold?"

She looked over her shoulder with red-rimmed eyes, then looked away. "Yes." That _had_ been worry on his face. First sincerity, and now concern?

"Here, then." His arms opened, the black wing flexing out and mantling about her, drawing her backward. Or was she going back on her own? It didn't matter. "You should not be out here without a wrap," he chided gently. "You know that."

She sunk into the embrace automatically. "I don't have a wrap."

Sephiroth's breath ruffled her hair. He could get used to this. "You should get one, then." His arms tightened.

Ellie bit her lip. "You know, truly, I don't have anything." 

"Stop saying that." There was a firmness in his voice, but it was not an order.

"What do I have, then? What do any of us have?" Tears threatened again. "What good would it do to have things if they will just be taken from me?" The pain they all felt was real. Their old lives had been the dream, and this place was real. Sometimes she wished that she could sleep again.

The ebony feathers were soft, silky, and warm. This time, she felt his chest move, taking a deep breath in as he spoke. "Perhaps, then, it is not things one should desire. What if this is a second chance?"

"A second chance?" She seemed to weigh it a moment, "I think I like that idea." She had been ready to let the familiar despair overtake her, but now that he was here, she felt something stir within her.

"Do you, now?" His head had moved down, closer to hers. "I am learning about the concept. Slowly, I admit, but I am learning."

"Well, then teach me about it?" She wound her fingers with his, holding onto him.

Sephiroth's chin rested upon her shoulder, his arms about her, pressing her back against his chest. He smiled and chuckled softly. "I think we will most likely be teaching each other."

She smiled, almost happy this time. "It sounds like a plan to me. Who knows—maybe Sora will save us all and we will have something to live _on _while we find something to live _for_."

"Hmph." he snorted. "He will have to train, then. But until he is ready, we can always fight to keep this little world together." On a whim, he placed a single kiss on her temple. "Would you be willing to fight, O healer of Valhalla?"

Shocked at the contact, she turned quickly to face him, her hands clasped to her chest. "What was that, Sephiroth?" Her heart started to flutter. In that moment, Ellie made up her mind.

A slightly embarrassed smile quirked his lips. "Taking a chance, I suppose." He had let her turn around and step away, but his hands still rested on her shoulders, and his wing still curved about her. It was all he could do not to pull her to him. Now that he had her, he wasn't letting go.

"Well, can't you do better then that?" With that, she stepped closer and met her lips to his. He almost staggered back at the feeling. Their arms wrapped about each other, both pulling themselves closer. For Sephiroth, this was the first kiss he'd ever meant; he needed it as much as he wanted it.

For Ellie, it was the first moment in years that she felt alive.

Then there was fire, arcing between their lips, feeding itself in the mixed desire and need they shared. They could swear that it could be seen, even as their eyes closed and the embrace deepened. The spark that started grew, warming them despite the chill of the wind. The stones of the coliseum that had been so sure were not there anymore. They were just a man and a woman in an unstable world. There were only the two of themand something new.

That night, as another distant sun went out, two people found what they needed in order to move on. And even if they opened their eyes to find they had not a stone to stand on, THIS time they would never let go. They had it at last, in this shadowed gallery, under the light of disappearing stars. They each had found something to hold on to.

*****

Author's Note:

Before you all review and tell me that I misspelled Hel, let me explain why I did that. Yes, it was on purpose. In Norse mythology, Hel was the name of the Land of the Dead, named after the goddess who ruled it. Because Final Fantasy VII uses so many references to Norse names and places, I thought it fitting.

Second thing I'd like to mention isDRAKONLILY is my HEROINE. She is the only reason this and the previous chapter were even written. Not only did she talk most of these two chapters out in YahooIM with me, she ALSO did some major fleshing-out of the last scenes. Thank you, lil dragon. As always, you are the best. *gives cookie*

So, one more chapter to go. Hope you've enjoyed it.

*wark*


	6. In Order

The sky was streaked with color.

It was spectacular, strokes of blue-violet woven with the brilliant hues of clouds still lit to gold and pink as the sun set. Beyond the last arms of the light, stars began to come out into view. Already, the eastern horizon was deepening to black.

But no one on Olympus noticed.

All eyes were fixed on the two warriors in the arena. It was almost ridiculous; the tall, well-muscled General with his heavy fall of silver hair and his glossy black wing facing off against the boy who looked too small for his age. Yet they both breathed heavily, hands grasping the hilts of their respective blades, sweating with the effort of battle.

They had been fighting for nearly an hour, and this was their first respite in this fierce confrontation. Each had a goal: Sora, to beat Sephiroth and finally be deemed strong enough to take on the Darkness at its core. Sephiroth, to stand in his way until he was strong enough to win on his own.

The spectators held their breaths, causing one moment of perfect stillness. Then the two warriors clashed, and the fight began anew.

Sephiroth wanted to let the boy win. They had fought so many times, and each time he had sent Sora away with bruises all over the boy's body as well as his ego. But he couldn't hold back. Too much was at stake.

He cried out a spell, just dodging the Keyblade and rolling to the side. Sora twisted the blade and tried to catch him as he moved. The boy had improved immensely. No longer did his young arms swing the weapon in wild arcs. Now they were controlled strikes with purpose. Sephiroth recognized some of his own moves in his opponent's repertoire. He would have smiled, if he could have afforded a moment to admire the other's skill.

He came up to his feet, bringing Masamune with him to block a downward swing of the Keyblade. As his eyes met Sora's, however, he realized his mistake. The Keyblade was coming UP instead, and Sephiroth knew he couldn't block it in time.

Sora rushed, seeing the opening and taking it, turning it into an attack against which even Sephiroth couldn't defend. He drove the great General back, strike after strike, to score at last the final stroke that sent his adversary to one knee. As Sephiroth went down, all noise ceased, leaving Sora to stand in wonder.

It was a terrible and awesome sight, the slight boy looking uncertainly down at the fallen General. Sephiroth forced himself to stand. "Congratulations," he said softly, barely keeping himself upright. He could feel the last hit still, a harsh ache in his ribs. "You win."

Sora stood blinking at the older man, then looked down at his hands with a grin. He had to fight to keep from becoming cocky. It hit him suddenly, the importance of what he had been chosen to do. He bowed. "Thank you, Sir."

Allowing a smile of his own to curl his lips upward, Sephiroth replied, "You are welcome." He gave an ironic little bow. "I do not envy you your task."

Sora gulped, but said nothing.

A shout made them both look up to see the other fighters racing toward them, Ellie in the lead. Sephiroth waved her off, claiming that he was fine. "Go check on Sora first," he said, ignoring her unconvinced mutter. She did as he said. though, hugging the blushing hero. As the others clapped and whooped for joy, celebrating Sora's unexpected victory, Sephiroth slipped away to get his coat.

Gods, his body hurt.

He decided to ask Ellie to rub his back later, his lips quirking up at the thought. She would have some choice things to say on the matter when she found out just how much damage he'd actually taken. But that was what he liked about her; under her sharp words was an underlying, true concern for his safety. Right now, though, it was Sora's moment. "Gods grant that he's able to take this on," he murmured to himself.

Slow clapping sounded from a shadowy corner. "Well done," came Cloud's familiar voice. "I would never have thought to say this, but he just might do it." His voice held little inflection or hope, but still the words were there.

Sephiroth raised a brow. "High praise, indeed, from you. And if he does? What will you do then?"

The blond man blinked, some kind of rare emotion crossing his face. "I don't know."

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder at the others. They were so happy, expectant. _Let them be,_ he thought, _they need something to celebrate._ Every muscle in his body hurt. "You could always go back, you know. Find the thing for which you search." He slung his sheathed blade over his shoulder and started away.

"I let her down more than once." Cloud took a deep breath and snapped out his wing. He leaned against the wall again, seemingly impassive.

"Hmph." Sephiroth turned. "This, from the man who told me to take the opportunity for a second chance?" he asked derisively. "Take your own advice, Strife."

A sharp, bitter exclamation came from Cloud. "Second chances have passed me by."

At that, the great General let out a hearty laugh. When Cloud scowled at him, he merely laughed harder. "And for me, it was not too late? Hel, Strife, you know better than that. I am the glass by which all others are measured. If I have not sinned enough, then certainly you have not."

"Failure perhaps is worse then a sin." Cloud sighed back, "After all, you and I—what are we? Just men. Let us see if this new hero can save us."

"And if he does? Will you then take your own advice?" A faint smile found its way to his face. "Would you take his success as a sign?"

Cloud Strife allowed himself to smile as well. He enjoyed the idea that, had anyone passed by and seen the two of them standing like that, they would have fainted dead away in shock. "Who knows?"

*****

It might have been a carnival, by the air of pure delight that pervaded the place. Great, burly fighters hugged each other like brothers, telling each other, _Sora has done it! Sora has locked Kingdom Hearts!_ Though everyone already knew, they continued to repeat the news. It was a balm for the fears they'd hidden for the past months.

They were going home! To Gaia, or Windslow, or the Planet. To Earth, to Terra, to Oceanus. They had made friends here, from other worlds. Everywhere men were shaking hands, clasping forearms, or simply slapping each other on the back, knowing they would likely never see each other again. But that paled against the knowledge that they would be going home!

Because Sora had done it. Sora had locked Kingdom Hearts.

Sephiroth walked through the clatter and confusion. Everyone was packing bags and shouting to each other, trying to race to the border before the worlds were inaccessible again. He noted how Ellie seemed to run in three directions at once, laughing and handing out bags of herbs and bandages for the journeys home.

His breath hitched a bit. She was excited about going back to Junon Harbor, and she expected that he would be happy as well. After all, the Planet was safe once again. Things were going to be put right.

He turned and walked to a more peaceful part of the arena. Cloud had gone already, off to find the person for whom he pined. That had been a good parting. Cloud hadn't said anything since the fight with Sora, but Sephiroth had noticed the change in his demeanor. There wassomething, in his student's brilliant blue eyes, that reminded him of the boy who had once cowered before him, and later stood against him. There was hope there, and he wished Strife well in his search for happiness.

He found his usual balcony to be free of the chaos that ruled elsewhere. Settling himself on the stone floor, he leaned back against a pillar, the black wing tucked out of the way. It was time to decide what to do next.

"I marked this day on my calendar, you know." Hercules's amiable voice came from behind him.

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder. "Oh?" His gaze returned to the bright vista beneath the Coliseum. It was a silent invitation for his...friend. The word still tasted strange, but he was becoming used to the idea. He liked Hercules, his bluff good nature and his friendly smile.

"Yeah. Oh, and I suppose I should add that Sora saved the worlds too." He winked, giving his best Hero Grin.

Sephiroth allowed a smile. "Do I really need to ask, or are you going to tell me anyway?"

"Well right now all it says is, 'An amazing event. Both Sephiroth AND Cloud have shown emotion!'" He laughed. "I suppose that Sora's achievement should be noted somewhere." He paused and added jokingly, "You know, underneath."

"It's not so difficult to believe, is it?" Sephiroth leaned his head back against the pillar and sighed. "I thought you were supervising the exodus," he said.

"Nah," the other man made himself comfortable in much the same way as Sephiroth. "Phil is better about that sort of thing. He's in his element, so I let him take over."

"Ah." They fell into a companiable silence, the sounds of the fighters barely reaching them here. After a moment, Sephiroth broke the stillness.

"Hercules...I..." He wanted to ask a favor, but was unsure about how to do it. The Great Sephiroth never asked, he just did whatever he wished.

But he was no longer the Great Sephiroth.

Herc sent him a knowing glance. "Gonna be kinda lonely without you."

Without looking at his friend, Sephiroth said softly, "You wouldn't mind if I stayed?" A thought struck him, and then his eyes did meet Herc's. "Just...don't tell Ellie."

"She wanted you to go home with her, didn't she?"

"Home." The word came out more bitterly than Sephiroth intended. "There is no home for me there."

"Isn't there?"

"I killed too many people. I should be dead as it is, but not even the Lifestream of my world would keep me. I can not, and will not, go back to that place." He spoke with finality. "If you don't want me to stay, I will find some other place..."

"Now don't you go all mushy on me!" Herc said, growing serious. "I want you to stay. You're the only person I can't beat. Guy's gotta have a goal, y'know."

Relief flooded through Sephiroth. "Thank you, Hercules." He stretched out his wing and cocked his head. "It sounds like the furor is dying down. If you want to go say goodbye to the others..." his voice trailed off. "I think I'm going to go practice. No one should be in the arena now." _And then I won't have to see Ellie disappearwon't have to tell her goodbye._

Hercules clasped Sephiroth's shoulder. "No. You made her cry once. Say goodbye like a man."

Sephiroth growled, angry because he knew his friend was right. "You don't think she'll feel worse if she tries to convince me to go with her and I turn her down? But fine. I'll go."

Hercules, mollified, merely smiled.

*****

Each step that drew him nearer to Ellie felt heavier than the last. Sephiroth didn't want to say goodbye to her, but Herc was right. He had to do it. He owed that much to her, at least. He found her wrapping some of her rarer plants in leftover bandages and placing them into a basket. "Ellie?"

She beamed at him. "Seph!" Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling. A few stray locks of her hair had come free of her braid and now they framed her face. She looked more like a delighted girl than a woman nearing thirty.

His heart almost broke.

Jumping up, she hugged herself with glee. "Can you believe it? That this is really happening?"

He put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from bouncing. "Ellie, I need to tell you something. I'm not going."

She balked. "What?"

There was a sudden hush, as the remaining men realized a storm was coming—and it was going to break all over Sephiroth. He knew it, too, but he firmly stood his ground. "I'm not going," he repeated. "I'm staying here." He forced all the conviction he could into his voice.

Her quick eyes narrowed. "You weren't even going to tell me, were you?"

He looked at the ground, but said nothing.

"You—you—ox-headed, son of a—" Ellie fumed, casting the wrapping to the floor. "Oh, no, you don't! Look at me when I talk to you!" Her hands were planted firmly on her hips. "You were just going to let me go and be miserable without you? You selfish—" She made an inarticulate noise of frustration. "I—I—" She cared about him; she wanted to hold onto him. How could he even consider not telling her?

Perversely, Sephiroth couldn't help but feel a twinge of pleasure at her words. She was angry at him, yes, but she would miss him! She wanted him to come! Not that it had been any question, but it was still good to know she cared about him. He couldn't keep his expression from softening, even if it WOULD infuriate her more.

"Ohhh, you think this is CUTE?" She continued to storm at him. "Well, YES, I wanted you to come! I thought that in some damned corner of your damned male bull-headed brain that you wanted MY company!"

Her words rolled over and around him then, as he listened to what she was really saying. He loved her temper, the bite in her voice that said more than her words. Finally, he took her by the shoulders again and pulled her against him, grinning. His mouth silenced hers, ignoring her muffled surprise.

She was only able to raise a half-hearted protest. She tried to scowl at him, then closed her eyes, leaning into the embrace. He felt her relax and begin to kiss him back. When she had calmed, he pulled away to smirk down at her. She still glared at him, but the worst of her anger had passed.

"I do want your company, Ellie. I just can't go back to the Planet. You know that. It rejected me, but this place accepts me. I'm sorry." Genuine regret colored his voice. He stroked her hair back, the wing angling to hide them from some of the more curious men. "Go on. Go back to Junon. You have a life waiting for you there."

A shout went up. "The doorway is closing!" someone shouted. The remaining men burst into action, grabbing up their weapons and running for the exit.

"Please, Ellie." He frowned in worry. "You need to go."

She looked around at her things, still only half-packed, and laughed ruefully.

"Ellie?"

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to go?" He was growing worried. She didn't have much time.

Ellie grabbed the man by his collar and pulled him down to her. "Why the Hel would I leave you all alone?" she chuckled affectionately. "Who would stop you from being a lummox?" Before he could respond, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed HIM.

A great rush of air and magic swirled about them. It lifted his hair, fluttered in the feathers of his wing and caught at the filmy hem of her grey chiton. Then it was gone.

The doorway home was closed.

Ellie was still here with him.

"Ellie, I—" he began, only to be stopped by her lips on his. It was harder to pull away this time, but he managed to. "What about Junon?" He couldn't believe she'd stayed.

She shrugged. "It wouldn't have been the same if I knew you had stayed behind." She eyed the mess about them and sighed. "Though I don't look forward to picking all this up."

They stood there, amid the scattered belongings of a hundred men, surrounded by herbs and cast-off weapons. A laugh welled up within him. Amazing how it was becoming easier and easier to do that. He had never felt better, he decided. Second chance, exile, new life—whatever one called it, he was determined to make it work.

And this time, when he bent to capture her mouth again, the ground beneath their feet was solid.

~~Fin~~

*****

AN: Many thanks as always to Drakonlily, writing partner and friend.

This is it, folks. The end of Valhalla. I hope you enjoyed it; please feel free to review. I also have this posted on my home site, with all my other fics.

Questions? Comments? Complaints? I'd like to hear them. Please also check out my other fics.

One final announcement: Aurora Magazine, a new literary magazine dedicated to pairing Aeris with Sephiroth, is now up and running! Our address is Please stop in!

Thanks to all who have been reading this fic.

*wark*


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